Saturday, February 2, 2013

These Flowers (A Poem for Women on the Autism Spectrum)

These flowers are the tears
an autistic woman cries
when no one knows just who she is
and there’s no alibi

Drinking warm tea, by the wayside
counting stars, by the wayside
crying out to see the daylight
as she struggles so, inside

Femininity in patterns
her feelings heat her blood
and strong enough to be a poison
if her brain they flood

People’s expectations
weigh down upon her soul
breaking time, and taking..
from her essence, from her flow

Fragmented like blown then shattered glass
colours; all in pieces
she folds, like an accordion
with whispers between the creases

Folding and lengthening, again and again
Pressing keys to hum a tune
her hands reach out, like a young mothers’ touch
then pull in, like the moon

Mysterious and loving
like a sensitive
but temperamental
kitty cat
for all it’s worth
taken advantage of
in that

Oh can she survive
to reveal her true
break out from a veil
of darkened blue
and share, from sister to sister
and heal from every blister

From nettles that stung
Sewing magic sweaters
Instead she can pick heather

The mind of what they call autism
it is so unique
and if the light is seen
amongst the shadows dark and bleak

That are brought forth by life upon
a system, counter clockwise to
the way we think
but she won’t shrink
or hide
or be pushed to the brink …

The woman, who feels so lonely
will find within, her right
To be understood
along with the man
for she’s the other half
of the Aspie light

And though she may not show it
in the same way as
she does glow it

If one would look with open eyes
beyond the disguise
she’s been pushed to make
she’s anything but fake

She is pure and true
flowers from her tears
will not die, but bloom
for our lives are not doomed


We’ll open up strong
and we’ll open up proud
Autistic women
Speak; aloud

March 11th, 2013

You can get all PDFs at (PDF layout is better honed than the blog format)

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